Couples and Expectations
by UrbanMuse
Summary: Prior to returning to work after his shooting, Mac and Jo go out on a first date. One-Shot. Follow up to Friends and Opportunities but can easily be read alone.


**Disclaimer: CSI NY and the characters don't belong to me - just the ideas in my story. No copyright infringement intended; no profit being made.**

**A/N: This is a sequel to "Friends and Opportunities" but there's no need to have read that story for this one to make sense. It's written as a one-shot and easily stands alone.**

Couples & Expectations

Jo Danville jetted across the street after exiting the subway station, narrowly avoiding a taxi rounding the corner as she stepped up onto the curb in front of Cozy's. She stopped a few feet from the door to the jazz club, her hand pressed against her chest, willing her heartbeat to return to normal before entering.

She'd barely taken a moment to breathe since being called out to a scene earlier that afternoon. Her head was pounding, her neck and back aching, her eyes gritty and tired. There was a part of her that desired nothing more than to just go home, take a long shower and burrow under the covers with a mug of hot chocolate and the early edition of the Sunday New York Times. Yet, when she thought of what this evening out might hold in store, she couldn't help but experience a jolt of nervous energy. She backed away slightly as a young couple, laughing happily, their arms entwined, sidled past to make their way into the club. Before the door closed in front of her, she caught a few riffs of the jazz tune being played and smiled slightly, knowing that Mac was responsible for the steady beat behind the fragment of music she'd overheard.

She glanced down at her watch. It was only 6:30; she had another half an hour yet. She let out a sigh of relief. All afternoon at the Lab, she'd feared she'd be late. As the clock had approached 5:30 and they still hadn't caught a break on the case, she'd feared she'd have to call Mac and cancel, or at least postpone, their evening's plans. Not that Mac wouldn't understand; but she didn't want him to have to. Certainly not on their first date. Her heart fluttered nervously at the thought of that word and she decided to take advantage of her early arrival and linger outside a few minutes before entering. The fresh air would be a welcome contrast to the tense atmosphere at the Lab and the congested Saturday evening subway ride. She moved away from the door and took a deep breath, trying to calm her frayed nerves.

Leaning back comfortably against the wall, she tucked a stray lock of hair back into place. She found her mind wandering back to this morning when she and Mac had taken Lucy Messer to the park. Back to this morning, when everything between them had suddenly changed.

Upon arriving at the playground with Lucy, Jo had had no idea what to expect from Mac. He'd been out on medical leave following his shooting for nearly four and a half months now. His recovery had been progressing slowly. But this morning, she'd been pleasantly surprised to find him not only in good spirits but also in seemingly spry physical condition. A vast improvement since their last visit together nearly three weeks before. Moving past her initial, rather emotional, surprise at his improved condition, she'd quickly settled in for an enjoyable morning outing together. No expectations whatsoever, other than pleasant conversation and sharing in Lucy's youthful exuberance. But now, all that had changed. By the time they'd dropped Lucy back home for lunch, Jo had found herself booked for a date with Mac tonight. At his behest, not hers. And no mistaking, it was a date. He'd actually used that very word.

Leaning further back into the wall and listening to the faint music wafting from inside the club, she pondered what an actual "date" with Mac might entail. Of course, they'd been out numerous times together: coffee break, lunch, midnight snack during a particularly difficult case. Even dinner on several occasions. But always as colleagues, co-workers, and of course, friends. She felt truly fortunate working with him and enjoyed immensely the relaxed, friendly rapport they'd shared, nearly from the beginning, both on the job and off.

But this . . . tonight . . . was suddenly different - more serious. He'd said he wanted to focus on their friendship. To forget their status as colleagues for a moment. But his words, his behavior, the way his hand had caressed her cheek before they'd said good bye, made it clear to her that he was looking at them as far more than just friends. Dare she even ponder the two of them together as a "couple"? She decided it best to just approach tonight with an open mind – no set expectations meant no threat of disappointment - for either of them.

Smiling at the memory of their time together earlier, and feeling more relaxed about the evening ahead, she was just about to open the door and enter when it suddenly swung violently outwards, nearly hitting her in the head. She barely had time to back away as a clearly disgruntled couple launched themselves out of the club, ignoring her presence and nearly running her over in their haste to exit.

"So you pick this night, of all nights, to break up? What the . . . ?" The man shouted.

The woman, who had been responsible for pushing open the door and nearly knocking into Jo, was already a few feet ahead when she stopped short and spun around, glaring at the man. "Well when the hell else was I supposed to do it? Would you have preferred I wait 'til tomorrow during dinner with your parents?"

Jo cringed. The man glanced briefly at her as they passed her by and Jo hoped that her stare hadn't been too obvious. She looked away quickly, turning her attention to searching for some unknown item in the depths of her shoulder bag. As she busied herself inventorying its contents, trying to ignore the heated conflict continuing mere steps away from her, she wondered vaguely if Mac's break-up with Christine had gone anything like the scene she'd suddenly become an unwilling bystander to. He'd given her very few details earlier, other than that Christine had moved upstate a few weeks ago to be closer to her parents, particularly her ailing father. While it sounded innocent enough, he'd mentioned things had been strained between them. But it had been clear he didn't want to discuss it further. Jo shook her head, as she continued to pick up random snippets of yet another tirade from the arguing couple, this time from the corner across the street. For Mac's sake, she hoped his rupture with Christine hadn't been half as bitter, or loud, as this one.

Readjusting her purse back up onto her shoulder, she hazarded a quick glance over at another group of patrons just stepping outside the club. She hesitated a moment to make sure she was out of harm's way in the event she was about to become witness to yet another altercation. She breathed a sigh of relief realizing they were merely stepping out for a cigarette. She approached the door, but lingered a moment as a cloud from the cigarettes enveloped her.

She normally hated the smell of cigarette smoke. Yet, for some reason, right now, she found herself oddly tempted to ask if she could have one. Anything to calm her jittery nerves. She shook her head at herself. Lord, she hadn't smoked since she was 15, that first illicit puff with her friends, outside at school, behind the bleachers after a game. She smiled a moment, rolling her eyes. Given the way she was acting, it would almost seem she were fifteen again, ready to head out on her first prom date. _Get a grip Danville._ She abruptly stopped pacing, took a deep breath, and after quickly glancing at her reflection in the glass of the bus stop shelter nearby, she turned to open the door to the club before she let her nerves get the best of her and she simply walked away.

She took two steps inside, pausing to turn slightly and catch the door before it slammed behind her. She immediately felt as if she'd been transported into another world. She noticed first the dim lighting, and had to remain standing in place a moment to allow her eyes to adjust. Despite the smoking ban, it seemed there was a thick haze in the air, causing the overhead lights, the tables, the chairs, even the people in the room, to seemingly blend into each other along the edges. The music had the same effect, one note overlapping into the next, one chord melding with another. The whole atmosphere creating an almost psychotropic effect. She could feel her nervousness about being here, the accumulated tension from the day, her uncertainty about 'dating' Mac, all begin to dissipate as the relaxing atmosphere enveloped her, inviting her further in both physically and mentally.

Once her eyes adjusted, she glanced around slowly. There was a long bar on the left, several small round tables directly ahead and towards the right, and a very small open dance area right in front of the stage. Although it was early for a Saturday night, she didn't see an empty seat in the entire place. She looked over at the bar, not particularly enjoying the idea of sidling up next to complete strangers, but she didn't see any other option at the moment. She scoped out a space between two sets of couples, hoping she'd manage to blend in there until Mac finished.

Just before she turned towards the bar, she noted movement both behind her as well as out of the corner of her eye. Another couple had just entered, also pausing and canvassing the seating options. To her right, a small group was just standing up, preparing to leave one of the tables. She quickly crossed in front of the newcomer, making a beeline for the soon to be vacated table. She shrugged off her jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs just as the previous patron stepped aside to leave. Pleased with her deft maneuvering, she smiled slightly at herself and sat down heavily on the chair, happy to finally be away from work, out of the Lab and off her feet.

Jo had barely managed to settle herself when a waitress approached. "I'm sorry, but these tables are reserved for two or more people only. We ask that individuals take a seat at one of the bars, or you could perhaps share . . . ."

Jo looked at her disbelievingly. _Groups only? Share?_ She scoffed. The table wasn't even that large. She glanced up at the stage. She couldn't quite see Mac; someone's head was blocking her view. But technically they were a couple now, right? At least certainly for their date tonight. He just happened to be occupied for the time being. She smiled sweetly at the waitress. "Well, I am part of a couple. The other half is on stage at the moment. He'll be joining me in a few minutes."

The waitress seemed to contemplate that for a moment, then smiled suddenly, her eyes opening widely. "Oh, you're Jo. Waiting for Mac, right? Welcome! I'm Tina." She flipped a lock of her long blonde hair out of the way and pointed proudly at the small nametag over her left breast.

Jo, perplexed by the young woman's sudden change in demeanor, merely nodded in amusement. "Right." She half laughed, half choked out. "Nice to meet you." She added hastily, not wanting to be rude.

The waitress continued effusively. "Mac said to keep my eye out for you. That you'd be meeting him tonight." She smiled widely, then leaned over towards Jo conspiratorially. "Lucky you." She said, her eyebrows raised, a glint in her eye and a silly smile on her face. Jo, somewhat taken aback by that phrase, merely raised her own eyebrows, unable to formulate a response. The waitress continued, oblivious to Jo's discomfort with this sudden familiarity. "It's _so_ great to have him back. We all missed him so much."

"I'm sure you did." Jo mumbled.

"So, what can I get for you to drink? On the house!"

Jo cocked her head sideways, looking oddly at the waitress, trying to figure out if she was even old enough to drink herself. Trying to push such thoughts from her head (what, was she, jealous already? Of Tina?) she smiled weakly, figuring she probably needed a decent drink about now. "Uh, sure . . ." She hesitated, suddenly thinking about what the proper course of action would be here. Should she order a drink now, before Mac even joined her? Or should she wait? Was Mac even able to drink yet given his rehab and the medications he was on? Perhaps it would be in poor taste to drink in front of him if he couldn't partake?

She furrowed her brow, sighing. _ This never used to be so difficult. _She thought. She clearly needed something to calm her nerves. She would never have debated how to behave around Mac before. Or anyone else, for that matter. Good Lord, he wasn't even here yet and here she was, worrying about how to act just in anticipation of him joining her. What was she going to be like when he finally sat down across from her, at the same table? For their _date_. She was definitely losing it. She noticed Tina the waitress still hovering next to her, the edge of impatience beginning to cut through her bubbly exterior as she began to tap her pen rhythmically against the order pad.

Jo suddenly threw up her hands in defeat and laughed slightly, her bracelets cascading down her arm and startling Tina who fumbled with her pen, nearly dropping it. "Oh heavens, I'll just have a Bourbon Sloe Gin Fizz." Tina smiled in relief as she made a note of it. Jo sighed. "Sorry. I seem to be hopelessly distracted tonight." Jo added in apology. Tina merely winked at her and smiled conspiratorially before moving on to the next table.

Staring after Tina for a moment, wondering just how well she actually knew Mac, Jo reached behind her and rearranged her coat and bag on the back of her seat. Her drink seemed to appear in no time and she murmured a soft "thank you" as she picked it up and took a sip. She closed her eyes slightly, letting her shoulders relax as the cool liquid flowed down her throat. She smiled contentedly, taking another swallow almost immediately, and eased back further into the chair as the melodic chords of the tune flowed through her body. Her eyes slid halfway shut and she sighed - the alcohol, the music, the dim lighting all conspiring to finally tame the last of her unruly nerves. A moment later, she hesitantly allowed her eyes to open gradually and trail up to the stage, finally seeking out Mac for the first time since she'd entered the club.

Jo shifted slightly to gain a better view. She caught sight of him, sitting just to the right of center stage. She gazed at him for a long while, a smile slowly creeping across her face. This was certainly not the Mac Taylor she was used to seeing in the Lab. No, this was someone entirely different. She thought perhaps she'd had a glimpse of this Mac earlier today at the park, with Lucy. But she was clearly seeing him now.

He was thoroughly lost in the music. His eyes were half closed. His left hand moving gracefully over the neck of the bass guitar, almost as if caressing it. His right hand strumming out the beat. Occasionally he would glance lazily over at one of the other musicians, sending a signal, or receiving one. Or perhaps just reveling in the sounds they were creating together. A subtle smile playing at the edges of his mouth the entire time.

Jo let out a long breath, toying absently with her necklace. She'd always known there was more to Mac – a certain part of him that he kept hidden away. And try as she might have, she'd never quite succeeded in getting him to let it completely loose in front of her. Now, she felt as if she was suddenly privy to a whole new side of her friend and co-worker. She shuddered slightly in anticipation of their date tonight. And for the first time in the nearly three years that she'd worked with Mac Taylor, she permitted her thoughts about him to wander off on tangents she'd never considered appropriate before.

She thought of their friendly embrace that morning upon meeting up in the park. How strong, how solid he'd felt compared to his frail appearance only a few weeks before. Her eye caught his finger strumming the strings and she recalled that morning at the park when he'd reached out and caressed her cheek with his thumb. She knew beyond certainty that it had been his right hand on her left cheek, because she'd memorized every detail of that particular moment. The feel of his finger, somewhat rough, yet oh so warm and gentle against her skin. The unwavering look of . . . well, yes, 'adoration' . . . on his face as he held her gaze. The quiver of pleasure that had coursed through her own body in response to his fleeting touch. She was pretty certain she'd leaned into him just slightly before he retracted his hand, much too soon for her liking. Thankfully, this had all been after he'd asked her out on the date, or she'd have felt embarrassed now, recognizing her reaction for what it had been. Yearning, plain and simple. For his closeness. For his touch. For him.

She brought her eyes back to focus on him again. Although she wasn't that far from the stage, she was off to the side and she assumed he wasn't able to see her clearly, if at all, from where he was sitting. She could see the sheen of sweat across his brow, the way his now damp t-shirt clung to his chest. Catching sight of a droplet of perspiration as it dripped from his brow, down the side of his face, she followed it with her gaze, transfixed, until it cascaded off his chin and fell to land on the neck of his guitar, only to be swept up in one sudden movement of his hand as his finger clamped down on the fret. Feeling suddenly much warmer than when she'd walked in, she mechanically untied the scarf from around her neck, leaning back to place it on the back of her chair, her eyes never leaving Mac.

A particularly fierce portion of the music came up and she watched, mesmerized, as his fingers nimbly slid over the neck of the guitar. She took a long breath, propping her elbow on the table, leaning her chin into her hand, and daring to imagine those same fingers on her. Not as they had been at the park this morning. Not just on her cheek. But on her whole body – caressing up and down her arm, her leg, her torso, her breasts, the pressure alternating between the most feather light graze to the most exquisitely painful palpation. The music reached a climactic finale and Mac's expression morphed into one of pure ecstasy as he leaned forward slightly in his seat, coaxing a soulful, resounding beat from the bass. She held her breath as she wondered if that was what his expression would resemble when he reached the peak of . . .

"Hey, can I get you another?"

Jo started so violently at Tina's voice, that her elbow slid off the edge of the table and she nearly fell forwards into her glass. Shocked at where her thoughts had led her, she coughed slightly, not quite ready to meet the waitress' gaze. She nervously untucked her hair from behind her ears, knowing that her face would be tinted with a rosy glow following her unrestrained musings. Glancing down at the table, she noticed in alarm that she'd already downed the drink she had. She took a slow, deep breath before daring to look up and smile feebly at Tina.

"Ah . . . just a club soda with lime is fine." The last thing she needed tonight was to be plastered before Mac even finished his set. The waitress reached out to remove the empty drink glass, but Jo gently put her hand over hers, effectively stopping her. "I like to eat the fruit." She stated simply. Tina smiled. "Ok. I'll leave it then." Jo nodded.

After taking a few slow, deep breaths, Jo leaned comfortably back in the chair, letting the music flow over her, trying to avoid looking at Mac for the time being. She decided it might be safer that way. Before she knew it, it was nearly 7 p.m. They finished the set and, daring to look up, she watched as Mac thanked each of the members of the group. Watched as he nodded, smiling, with the others, in response to the audience's applause. Watched as he turned and exchanged words with each of his fellow musicians, this time too soft to be overheard by the crowd. Watched as he lovingly packed up his bass, grabbed his jacket hanging on the chair behind him, and stepped down, pausing as he sought her out. So he hadn't noticed her yet, she realized. She stood up slightly, waving to catch his attention. He nodded to her instantly, and smiled as he approached, weaving through the crowded floor, his eyes never leaving her.

He stopped at the side of her table and smiled widely. "Hey."

She chuckled slightly, thinking she'd never heard him greet anyone in such a casually offhand manner. "Hey yourself." She replied.

"Did you like it?" He asked, nodding his head back to the stage, referring to the music.

Se looked at him a moment before answering. "It was dreamlike. I can't tell you how much I needed that after the day I had."

He smiled knowingly. "Jazz can be quite cathartic after a rough day, whether you're playing or just listening."

She merely nodded in response, staring up at him. He cleared his throat nervously, realizing he hadn't properly greeted her. He hesitated a moment, then leaned in, placing a rather chaste kiss on her cheek. Jo, caught off guard, didn't have time to react, only managing to reach out and clutch the side of his shirt. He didn't seem to mind. "Thanks for coming. You made my night." He whispered in her ear just before he drew back and straightened.

Jo Danville didn't like to think of herself as the kind of woman to melt in the face of a kind comment or a subtle touch from a member of the opposite sex. But damn, she couldn't help the frisson of excitement that shattered through to the ending of every nerve in her body in response to that tiny kiss, that murmured utterance. She thanked the Lord for the dim lighting, well aware that while her face may have been tinted with a rosy glow from her earlier reflection, now it would certainly have attained a bright crimson shade. She opened her mouth, feeling she should at least acknowledge his comment; but she didn't trust her voice, and couldn't think of a proper response anyway.

He laughed shyly, noticing her hand still resting on the side of his shirt. "Maybe I should go change – it gets hot under those stage lights." He said, picking randomly at his t-shirt, feeling uncomfortable as he realized just how clingy the damp material had become.

Jo, embarrassed on realizing her hand was still gripping his t-shirt, withdrew it more quickly than she intended, hitting her wrist on the edge of the table as she did so. "Ow!" She winced, grabbing her jarred hand with the other. Mac set down his guitar case and reached out tentatively, tenderly grasping her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth where he placed a light kiss on its back. "You ok?"

She laughed nervously, withdrawing her hand from his and touching the spot where the warmth from his mouth was still evident, causing goose bumps of excitement to pop out all over her body. "Oh, Lord, I'm fine. You know me. Clumsy, that's all. And please. Don't be concerned about your shirt. We're even – I didn't have any time to change before coming here – I'm still in my playground clothes from this morning with Lucy." She replied, looking down and brushing imaginary dirt from her pants.

Mac furrowed his brow. "Busy at the Lab, huh? What case?"

Jo looked up, frowning, and eyed him askance. "Please. Mac. We are not here to talk about work are we? I may have to reconsider coming out with you if that was your end game . . ." She joked, gradually feeling her normal self confidence returning.

He laughed, shaking his head. "No. It really wasn't. And you're right. No talk about work." She eyed him skeptically; he responded with a look of mild annoyance. "I promise." He assured her. "I guess I'll be back to work soon enough." Their conversation was interrupted as someone apologized for nearly tripping over his guitar case still resting on the floor. He looked over at Jo. "You know, I'm going to go lock this up backstage so I don't have to drag it all over town with us, ok? I'll be right back out."

She smiled, nodding, and watched as he turned and made his way back through the crowd. She couldn't help but eye how his well worn black jeans seemed to hang a bit lower on his hips than she was used to seeing on him. He must have lost weight after the shooting. Raising her eyes up slightly, she noted how his black t-shirt accentuated his upper physique. She knew he'd been working out, albeit lightly, every day in an effort to get back in shape since the shooting.

She smiled in spite of herself. Here she was, blatantly checking out her boss' backside. But she had to admit, she was enjoying Mac's casual side tonight. And not just the clothing aspect. His attitude was definitely on the casual scale as well, thinking back to his actions and comments towards her so far. Her mind began racing again about what might still be in store, but she quickly reined in her thoughts, reminding herself 'no expectations, no disappointment'. When she could no longer see him through the crowd, she turned her attention to the remains of her drinks on the table. She glanced around for the waitress, so she could leave a tip. Not seeing any sign of her, she plucked the cherry from her Gin Fizz glass and began sucking on it absently.

She suddenly felt the weight of someone's gaze on her and subtly glanced over her shoulder. A middle-aged man, standing a few feet away from her table, was looking over towards her. She tried to avoid his gaze, but now that she was aware he was staring at her, it seemed every few seconds their eyes kept meeting, regardless of how hard she tried to turn hers in the other direction. Finally, she heard him chuckle slightly and noticed him walking over towards her. Jo stiffened, bracing herself for some cheesy come-on. Good lord, how she tired of this scene. No wonder she'd been single for so long. She looked back towards the stage, wondering how long it would take Mac to lock up his guitar.

The man stopped a foot away from her and cleared his throat. She focused her gaze on her watch as if she hadn't noticed his approach. "Are you by any chance Susan?" He asked, his voice kind, but hesitant.

Jo glanced up at him, pulling the cherry stem from her mouth, her expression neutral, and shook her head. "Sorry. Wrong person."

The man laughed lightly again, clearly out of nervousness, glancing at his watch, then back at Jo, eying her from head to toe. "No, I guess you wouldn't be. My loss. Sorry to have bothered you."

Jo quirked her eyebrow at him, not exactly certain what to say, when all of a sudden a rather shrill voice cut through the din. Both Jo and the man looked up to see a tall, buxom brunette approaching, dressed in a gold lame mini dress and heels that made Jo's head spin and toes ache just looking at them. "Jim?" The woman repeated even more loudly. The man quickly turned towards her, glancing back at Jo one last time, a look of regret, and perhaps mild embarrassment, passing over his features as he plastered on a smile and turned back, nodding at the woman as she waved her hand at him.

Jo sighed. Clearly an escort, she thought. She watched as they moved away, the woman grabbing his hand and leading him towards a far table.

Jo's brow furrowed. It suddenly hit her that he'd mistaken her not just for Susan – but Susan _the_ _escort_. She frowned, casting a surreptitious glance in Susan's direction, eyeing her mini dress and heels, her overdone hair, then glancing down at her own black jeans, teal sweater, and thick heeled boots. She blew out a breath, sending a stray few wisps of her own hair flying out before her like the forelock on a horse. Good Lord, she thought. Surely she didn't look like an escort? Perhaps she'd put on too much make-up in the dim lighting of her office before heading over. She dug her compact out of her bag, opening it up to glance at herself quickly in the mirror.

Mac suddenly appeared, weaving his way back through the crowd, pausing near her and watching as she examined her reflection in the handheld mirror. "You ok?" He asked, noting her slightly flustered look.

She barely glanced at him. "Mac, do I look like an escort?" She flipped her compact shut with a snap and tossed it into her bag, looking up at him, clearly waiting for him to answer. Mac didn't miss the hint of agitation evident in her actions, nor the glint of annoyance in her eyes.

His forehead wrinkled and he thought carefully a moment before daring to respond. "Uhmmm, no?" He replied slowly, wondering if this was one of those trick questions women tended to ask that he had no hope of answering correctly. He continued rather hesitantly. "Was . . . that the look you were trying for?"

She rolled her eyes, groaning. "Ugh. No, of course not."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I mean, you look nice. You always look nice Jo. But, I don't think I'd suspect you were an escort. Why exactly?" She merely frowned, her thoughts seemingly else where. When she didn't answer right away, his mouth slowly stretched into a hesitant smile. "What? The Lab not paying you enough these days? Thinking of moonlighting?"

She narrowed her eye, glaring at him. "Oh, just . . . Pfff . . . never mind."

He chuckled slightly, feeling confident he'd managed to navigate that potential minefield with all body parts intact. "All right. It's forgotten."

Still glaring at him, she vaguely noted that he'd changed shirts, now sporting a long sleeved black T in place of the damp one he'd worn while playing. She wondered absently whether Tina, the waitress, still missing in action, had been privy for that particular event.

Attempting to change the subject, Mac glanced at her empty drink glasses on the table and spoke. "You met Tina?"

Jo groaned inwardly. "Oh, yea. . . . . About Tina . . ."

Mac detected a note of acrimony in Jo's voice. "What's wrong?" He looked at her curiously.

Jo opened her eyes wide as if nothing were amiss. "Oh, nothing. What about her exactly?"

He continued looking at her, slightly perplexed by her odd behavior, before finally continuing. "Well, anyway. You know, she's Danny's youngest cousin? I got her a job here a year or so ago."

Jo's eyebrows rose to astounding heights, in direct proportion to the depth to which her mouth fell open. Then she began to snicker.

Mac frowned. "What?" He'd clearly missed something.

Jo choked down a final laugh. "Oh my heavens. I was actually beginning to think . . . . " She halted, looking at Mac a moment and suddenly feeling overwhelmingly childish as her cheeks reddened slightly. "Ahh, actually, nothing. You don't even wanna know."

Mac looked at her askance. "You sure I don't wanna know?"

Jo shook her head and smiled. "It's nothing. I'm just … sorry. I'm just a little tired."

Mac smiled softly. "Well, in that case, what do you say we go out and get dinner?"

But she didn't respond. As the next ensemble had started playing, several couples had headed to the small dance floor only a few feet from where Jo was sitting. She seemed enthralled, staring at the sway of people on the floor. After watching her a moment, Mac moved slightly closer, leaning down so that she could hear him over the music. "Do you like to dance?" He inquired.

Hearing his voice just inches from her ear startled her; she realized she'd been ignoring him completely.

"Oh, Mac, I'm sorry." She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as if in pain. "I should have walked here – given myself a chance to clear my thoughts after this crazy afternoon." She breathed in slowly, deeply. Mac wanted to ask what had happened, but was loathe to bring up work again. She shook her head and looked up at him, forcing a small smile. "Do I like to dance?" She repeated his earlier question. "Yea, actually, I do. But it's not something I've done for quite a while."

Mac smiled softly at her. "I had no idea."

She shrugged. "Like I said. I haven't done it in ages. I expect I'd be a bit ungainly now."

Mac looked at her a moment. "Did you and Russ used to dance?"

Jo considered that question a moment. "Russ didn't particularly like dancing. He grudgingly agreed at our wedding, but I'm pretty sure that was the first and last time we ever danced together!"

"And you haven't been dancing since?"

Jo shook her head slowly. "Well, no. Occasionally at the holiday party at the Bureau I'd manage to find some willing victim!" She winked at Mac and he laughed.

"I doubt you would have had any problem finding a willing . . . partner." He corrected.

She merely shrugged, staring back again at the small dance floor. After a moment, Mac leaned over and quietly placed his jacket onto the back of the empty chair. He moved back to her side, holding out his hand, stroking her upper arm with his fingertips ever so lightly to get her attention. She glanced over at him, staring at his outstretched hand. "May I have this dance?" He asked, just loud enough to carry over the music.

She turned her gaze upwards to meet his. Surprised by his offer, she smiled shyly. "Oh, Mac, you don't have to . . ."

Mac shook his head. "I want to."

She hesitantly placed her hand in his and he clasped it, gently pulling her from her seat and leading her to the dance floor. He maneuvered them around the crowd until he found a suitable space and stopped, turning to face her. He smiled encouragingly at her, seeing the look of abject fear spread across her features.

Whether from the alcohol, having barely eaten lunch, or the simple fact that her nerves were nearing detonation levels, Jo was certain she would have fainted had Mac not reached out at that precise moment to snake his right arm around her waist. His left hand sought out and gently clasped her right. He pulled her nearer to him and before her other hand was caught awkwardly between their bodies, it thankfully seemed to move upwards of its own accord to assume it's proper place on his shoulder. Without even thinking, she leaned into him slightly, her head coming to rest against his shoulder, the familiar position automatically resurfacing in her memory just like riding a bike. From their first movement together, she could tell he was a proficient dancer. She felt somewhat amateurish at first, but they soon fell into a hypnotic rhythm and she allowed herself to relax even more into him, as he led them slowly over the small floor.

Mac, too, found himself leaning further into her as they danced. His face was just to the side of her head and he felt himself getting lost in her scent. He took a risk and began gently caressing her back with his thumb. A few moments later, he pressed his body a bit further into hers, marveling at how comfortable this all felt. As if he went dancing with Jo every week. As if they held each other intimately on a regular basis. They seemed to fit together just that perfectly. He realized he hadn't felt this good, this relaxed, in a very long time and he couldn't help the giddy smile that broke out on his face.

Suddenly, he felt a vibration against his hip. He furrowed his brow. He always kept his phone on his other side. Could it be Jo's? He shifted slightly and, glancing down, saw it peeking out of her other pocket. He felt the tremor again and realized it was not a phone, but rather her stomach grumbling. He leaned towards her, speaking softly into her ear. "I think we need to get you some food."

Jo pulled back from him, a look of dismay clouding her face. "You did not hear that?"

Mac simply shook his head. "No, but I felt it." She stepped back further, letting go of his hand, her palm covering her stomach, her face slightly reddened. The song ended and the rest of the crowd stopped, applauding loudly.

"Jo, did you ever eat lunch? You got that call out earlier, right after we dropped Lucy off. Right before we had a chance to go eat. And I distinctly recall you mentioning to me how hungry you were then."

She frowned as she thought back over her day. "Well, I had a few cups of tea. And I had some crackers from the vending machine at the Lab."

Mac shook his head, a look of mock reprobation crossing his features. "You know, just because you're interim boss 'til I'm off sick leave doesn't mean you have to take over every single aspect of my role at the Lab. Don and I are the ones who are supposed to live off that crap in the vending machine. Not you. It's an unwritten rule at the Lab. I'm surprised you haven't learned that after three years." He gave her a silly grin and motioned for her to follow him off the dance floor before the next song began. "Come on. Let's get some food into you. We'll go dancing another time if you like." Jo stared after him a moment, wondering who on earth had taken over Mac Taylor's body this evening.

-/-/-/-/

After exiting the club they both paused, Mac helping Jo shrug on her jacket, the weather decidedly less balmy now than it had been earlier. He looked at her.

"You have any preference for food? There's Cuban down the alley over there, Italian just around the corner, Thai up the street a bit. . . "

"Cuban sounds interesting . . . Wait!" Jo paused to stare at him, her hands finding her hips. "Mac, you who barely take 5 minutes out of your schedule at work to eat, now, suddenly know all these little off the beaten path eateries in the city? Is that what you've been doing with all your free time out on medical leave? It's gonna be rough, going back to surviving on that 'crap' from the vending machine, huh?"

He laughed, knowing she was teasing. But then he shrugged, a more serious air shading his face. "Well, Christine . . ."

Mac's sentence was cut off by the stark sound of Jo slapping her forehead with her hand. "Oh heavens. Of course. Christine. I wasn't thinking. Sorry." Despite her curiosity, she'd been doing her best to avoid that subject. To the point that she herself had forgotten about Christine for a while. "I guess you'd probably know a lot of restaurants pretty intimately by now, huh?"

Mac shook his head, not liking the sound of that word, intimately. He guided her into the alley and they could see the little restaurant at the far end. "Jo, I've never actually been here before. Christine said she didn't really like this one . . ." He paused, noticing Jo's raised eyebrow. He realized how that may have sounded. She smiled oddly. "So you thought you'd drag me here to test it out?"

He brushed away her skepticism with a shake of his head and a smile. "No, don't worry. She just didn't like Cuban food in general. I've always thought this place looked promising. I've been wanting to try it out for a while. You know, Christine and I didn't always have quite the same taste when it came to food."

She eyed him sideways as he held the door for her. "Well, if I get food poisoning, it's your fault."

He grinned. "I'll take full responsibility. I'll even nurse you back to health if necessary."

Jo waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, now wouldn't that make for a fun second date!"

He laughed out loud. "Hopefully it won't come to that." And he placed his hand on her back as they entered the small restaurant side by side, both of them grinning.

-/-/-/-/-

They were seated quickly at a small table near the center of the dining area. Mac helped Jo with her coat, draping it over the back of her chair and waiting until she was settled before sitting down himself.

Jo skimmed the menu, then looked at Mac thoughtfully. "So, you've been wanting to come here for a while. Why don't you order for us?"

He shrugged. "Well, I suppose I could do that. We could get a bunch of tapas and share everything."

He glanced at her and she nodded encouragingly. "Now that you're finally here, with me, you can divulge exactly what it is that's been tempting you all along!"

He looked up at her oddly, somewhat curious at her choice of words. She was simply smiling at him sweetly. "Are we still talking about the restaurant and what's on the menu or have we moved on to something else?"

Jo's gaze continued to hold his. "You're funny Mac."

"Well, I guess you won't be bored tonight."

She smirked slightly as he turned his attention back to the menu. "Anything you don't like?" He questioned. "Or anything you can't live without?"

Jo pondered that a moment. "No. Just as long as we save room for dessert. I've already got my eye on that chocolate cake."

He shook his head. "Don't worry, that was going to be the first thing I ordered – figured I should reserve one lest they run out before we get around to dessert."

The waiter appeared to take their order. Jo couldn't pass up starting with a Mojito mixed with Sangria; Mac ordered a seltzer water and continued to order a selection of dishes for the two of them, including the desired dessert.

After Mac ordered, Jo excused herself to use the ladies' room.

As he watched her walk away, Mac thought about how nervous he'd been earlier today, before they'd met up in the park with Lucy. Despite having known Jo for nearly three years, having worked alongside her intimately, he'd felt it was somewhat of a risk to ask her out. On a date. Not because he had any doubt about the affinity between them. That was a given. But sometimes the mere fact of formalizing a relationship – giving it a label such as "date" or "couple" - caused it to change. People's expectations became heightened and reality often had a way of disappointing. But, happily, tonight, so far, everything seemed to be going smoothly. He hoped she felt the same.

Mac's attention was suddenly caught by the door opening and a rather boisterous group entering. Mac glanced at the entryway, noting four or five well-dressed men enter, talking and laughing loudly as they stood, gesturing towards the crowded bar at the far edge of the restaurant. The last one to enter was pulling the door closed and as he turned around Mac's brow knit together in consternation. Russ Josephson. Jo's ex-husband. Before Mac could wipe the look of dismay off his face, Russ had noticed him, a cocky smile breaking out across his face. He held up a finger to his friends and began walking towards Mac.

"Hey, Mac. How're you doin'?" He held out his hand and Mac rose to shake it, flashing Russ a feeble smile in return.

"I'm fine Russ. How are you?"

Russ nodded. "I'm good. Busy. You look a sight better than the last time I saw you, a few months back. You back to work yet?"

Mac shook his head. "Another couple weeks; just part time to start with." Mac couldn't help but glance towards the ladies' room door, wondering how Jo would react when she returned to find Russ.

Russ caught his look and glanced down at the table, noticing a woman's leather jacket and scarf draped over the chair. He smiled over at Mac. "You here with . . . . Ah, shit. I can't remember her name. The blond. I met her when I came to see you in the hospital."

"Christine." Mac murmured.

"Yea, yea. Christine. She seemed nice."

Mac was shaking his head. "Um, no, not Christine. Actually I'm here with . . ."

Before he was able to finish, they both looked over to see Jo approaching, a look of mild alarm on her face. "Russ?" Was all she managed to choke out.

Russ chuckled. "Well, what do you know? Hey, I didn't expect to see you here. Bringing him up to speed before he returns to work?" Russ nodded in Mac's direction.

Mac and Jo exchanged questioning, slightly panicked looks. Russ's expression changed from one of pleasant conviviality to one more akin to nausea as the realization of why exactly they were here together suddenly sank in.

He looked away a moment, a faint red tinge spreading across his cheeks. "Not exactly. I see." He mumbled.

He took a deep breath and turned back to the two of them, his voice noticeably less energetic than earlier. "Listen. We'll, ah, move on to somewhere else." He said slowly, nodding his head back towards the 4 others waiting for him near the doorway.

Mac opened his mouth, but Jo beat him to it. "Russ, you don't have to . . ."

Russ smiled softly at her, raising his hand to cut her off. "Don't worry. It makes the most sense I think. We come here for drinks all the time. Can't hurt to branch out a little, right?"

He turned to Mac, reaching out his hand once again. Mac shook it. "Nice to see you Mac."

Mac nodded. "Russ."

Russ turned to Jo and took a small step forward, leaning in slightly as if to kiss her forehead, then hesitated and instead reached out and gently patted her upper arm. He stepped back from them, looking from one to the other a moment.

"Enjoy your . . . evening." He stated quietly, then turned to go. After only a step, he suddenly turned back. "Oh. Don't worry. I never saw you two here." He quirked his lips into a pained smile and turned back to his friends, herding them back outside amidst their words of protest and questioning looks.

Jo sunk heavily back down into her chair, deep in thought, her face unreadable. Mac sat slowly and reached out across the table, taking her hand in his. "You ok?"

She stared back at him a moment. "Oh, God, Mac. I'm so sorry. That was . . . unexpected, to say the least."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It was fine, Jo. No worries. He was civil, courteous."

She scoffed. "Like I said, that was unexpected."

Mac grinned. "Remember, I was the one who chose this restaurant. I didn't even think about the fact the Bureau headquarters is just around the corner."

Jo shook her head. "And you shouldn't have. Good grief. Out of the thousands of restaurants and bars here in the city, we had to end up at the same one! What are the odds?"

Mac smiled and shook his head. "Come on. Forget about it. Forget about him." The waiter approached with their first small plates. Mac withdrew his hand from Jo's to make room on the table. "Let's just enjoy our dinner. It's just us now."

-\-\-\-\-

Two and a half hours, way too much food, drinks for Jo, water for Mac, chocolate cake and two coffees later, the two of them finally exited the restaurant. They paused a moment to catch their breath, still recovering from a silly story Mac had been telling about his first very first day of Basic Training ages ago.

After a last chuckle he looked over at her and smiled. "What would you like to do now?"

She gazed at him a moment. He'd been putting up an award worthy act through dessert and coffee. But she knew him too well. She could see the fatigue in his eyes, his several covert attempts at stifling yawns. The poorly concealed efforts at stretching out his stiffened back and abdomen. He was exhausted. And most likely due to take his pain medication if she was reading that crease in his brow correctly.

"You know what Mac. The possibilities seem just endless. But so are the opportunities for us to take advantage of them. I say we call it an evening tonight. We're both tired. All the more reason to look forward to our next time together.

He looked at her a moment. He knew she was calling it an evening for his sake, not hers. He was tempted to protest. But deep down, he knew she was right. He was exhausted. And sore. Best to end on a positive note.

He nodded slightly, gazing up at the sky. "I suppose you're right. But you know, when we were in the park this morning, I promised you a walk under the moonlight . . ."

She reached out with her hand, her fingers touching his cheek, mimicking his own actions earlier in the park. "Mac. It's getting late. You should get home. Your place is across the city . . ."

"And yours is just a few blocks away. I'll walk you home, how's that? I can catch a cab from there. Not quite the same as a moonlit walk in Central Park, but I suppose it'll have to do."

She smiled slowly at him, her hand, still on his cheek, brushing softly down, past his chin, to come to rest just over his heart momentarily before she withdrew it. "Ok."

He smiled and turned in the direction of her neighborhood, holding his arm out and waiting for her to turn as well so that he could place it around her shoulders.

They walked, arms around each other, in comfortable silence for nearly two blocks, each unwilling to accept that their evening was nearly over. Suddenly, Jo turned her face to his.

"Mac?"

Her tone sounded serious and he slowed his gait slightly. "Yes?"

"Why did you ask me out?"

He looked over at her again, trying to read her expression, but he couldn't. _She'd be a damn good poker player_, he decided. He sighed softly. "Why? Are you regretting that I did?"

"Of course not. I was just curious. It was . . . I don't know. Unexpected. But certainly not unwelcome."

Mac thought for a moment before responding, glancing up to note where they were. "Well, I've had a lot of time to do a lot of thinking. I came to some pretty hard conclusions about my life and the way I've been leading it. And as a result I decided some changes needed to be made."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed to have finished.

She stopped, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "Geez Mac, could you have come up with a more canned response? I was expecting maybe . . . oh, I don't know. 'Gee Jo, I really like you. I thought I'd ask you out.' Or maybe 'Jo, you're fun to be around, I'd like to spend more time with you.' But 'I needed a change in my life'? So I rank right up there with, what . . . switching toothpaste brands or giving up coffee?"

Mac laughed, motioning for her to continue walking. "Well, you only gave me a couple blocks – you can't exactly expect me to go into great depth in just a few minutes."

She rolled her eyes. "If you were a suspect under interrogation and you came up with some generic answer like that, I'd assume you were guilty just based on your failure to come up with an actual answer to my question."

He frowned at her, playing along. "I gave you an answer. And it was the truth. And anyway, you'd just assume I'm guilty of what, exactly? I didn't realize I was being charged with anything."

Now it was her turn to frown. "Well, I'm not sure yet. But I'll figure it out. You just wait and see. I'm sure you're guilty of something Mac Taylor. You have that look about you."

Mac shook his head. "And to think you've been in charge of the Crime Lab for the past several months. Have you actually examined the evidence in any of the cases, or did you just trust your gut as to whether someone was guilty?"

She shot him a deathly glare.

He smiled back. "Well, in any case, Jo Danville, I will admit you truly are fun to spend time with. Never a dull moment."

She sighed dramatically. "Well, I guess I'll just have to take that as the best answer I'm gonna get out of you."

Just as they rounded the corner by her building, a taxi pulled up to let someone out. Jo tugged on Mac's sleeve, gesturing at the cab. "Mac, you should grab it. Who knows when you'll just come up on another taxi right here when you need it." He hesitated. He didn't want their goodbye to be rushed. But she was right – it was Saturday night. How lucky could he get? He nodded. "Wait here a minute." He told her, and he approached the cab, opening the door and leaning down to speak quietly with the cabbie. A half minute, and some serious haggling later, he turned back to Jo, a slight smile on his face. She looked at him questioningly.

"I'll see you to the door at least. Make sure you get in the building safely."

"Mac, I highly doubt anyone's going to mug me on the ten foot path from here to the front door."

"Well, you just never know. Better safe than sorry." And he reached down to take her hand in his as he walked her to the door. Jo found herself counting each step, dreading the moment she reached the stairway.

Pausing at the entry to her building, she turned to face Mac, their hands still intertwined. She seemed about to say something and Mac looked at her expectantly.

Jo hesitated a moment, staring into his eyes, before she leaned in closer. She wanted to ask him up. Knew she shouldn't. But she found her mouth moving of its own accord and the words seemed to tumble out. She couldn't resist.

"Mac, if I were younger, and blessed with the impetuosity that comes with youth, I'd ask you up right now. No question about it." Her voice was slightly hurried. Her face flushed.

Mac hesitated slightly. He looked down a moment, glanced over at the cab, then back up to her, not quite meeting her gaze.

Jo closed her eyes a moment, regretting having shared even that with him. Oh, she was so stupid. She thought to herself. She might as well have just asked him point blank if he wanted to come up and have sex. Now she'd made things awkward.

He finally looked at her, clearing his throat. "Jo, regardless of my age, impulsiveness, or lack thereof, if I didn't have to get home and take my medication right now, I'd say yes. No question about it."

She was somewhat taken aback by his answer, not having expected that level of frankness. She let out a small laugh, grateful for anything to lessen the discomfort she was feeling now. "Oh of course. I forgot about your meds. Sorry." She bit her lip, embarrassed at her forwardness, her moment of weakness.

He looked at her face, his expression turning serious. He seemed to hesitate before he finally spoke. "Do you . . . want to . . . come over to my . . ."

She reached out her hand and placed a finger gently on his lips, silencing him before he could even finish his sentence.

She shook her head. "No. Mac. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's too soon. I'm moving way too fast here. It was, well . . ." she giggled nervously, thinking back to her earlier comment. "It was impetuous of me I guess. "

Mac smiled. "You're not so old you can't get by with a bit of impulsiveness now and again."

She stopped to take a deep breath, smiling at his comment. She looked into his face, trying to gauge his reaction to all this.

He smiled. "But I suppose you're right. This may be a bit fast. First date and all."

She smiled wider. "Yea. First date." Hoping she'd read him right, she barely missed a beat before continuing. "Would you like a second one?" She asked breathlessly, the look in her eyes indicating to Mac that she was dead serious.

Mac couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, sure. Absolutely."

She grinned like a little girl. "Why don't you come over . . ." She wanted so desperately to say "tomorrow". But that would be, well, desperate. She glanced at Mac – he was staring at her. Waiting for her to finish her sentence. She mentally ticked through her and Ellie's schedule for the coming week. She got off early Friday; Ellie was going to a concert and then staying with a friend. "Why don't you come over Friday night? I'll make you dinner after work."

He was slightly disappointed – a week away yet. But she had a life; his had been reduced to doctor's appointments, medication schedules and therapy routines. He couldn't expect her to drop everything for him. He made sure she didn't see his regret, instead smiling broadly at her. "I'd like that."

She smiled back. "Me too."

They stared at each other a moment. Both aware of the cab still waiting a few yards away. Jo wondered absently how Mac had goaded the driver into sitting and waiting so patiently at the curbside throughout their extended goodbye.

Then, all of a sudden; or perhaps not so suddenly after all . . . . Neither was certain exactly how it started. A tentative touch, his fingertips against her cheek. That lingered just a bit longer than usual. A sudden tremor building through her body at the contact. That didn't go unnoticed by Mac. His thumb gliding down, skimming across her mouth. A subtle parting of her lips in response. Followed by a soft exhalation on her part. More prolonged than a mere breath, yet slightly less profound than a sigh. Her reactions only serving to bolster his confidence, he leaned in towards her ever so slightly. His hand sliding back around to cradle her head just at the nape of her neck. His forehead nearly, but not quite, touching her own. His nose just to the side of hers. His eyelashes tickling hers.

When he spoke, his voice was low, soft, warm as it caressed her cheek and ear. "We could still kiss. I think that's allowed. Even on a first date . . .that's what couples do, right?" The last few words were barely audible. A low, throaty "Mmm" was all she managed in response, her eyes already closing in anticipation of the feel of his lips on hers. His head moved slightly downwards, his mouth seeking out hers. She pressed closer to him yet, her thigh resting against his own, her hand rising up to his back, her lips now a mere whisper away from his.

When they finally made contact it reminded him of one of the first chemistry experiments he'd conducted in middle school. Explosive, addictive, and highly rewarding. He'd intended to keep the kiss modest, or certainly to start out that way. But her scent, her taste, the heat emanating off her body, the feel of her skin against him, her lips on his, her fingertips in his hair . . . He felt like he'd just gone from zero to sixty in a fraction of a second, with no end in sight.

As soon as his lips had pressed against hers, timidly at first, Jo had felt a rush of heat course through her body with such force that she needed to lean even further into Mac to keep from losing her balance. Her lips, already open, parted more fully and her tongue delved further into his mouth, tasting him. The presence of the taxi, the fact that they were on her doorstep, in public for all to see, faded to the depths of both their minds. All they were aware of was each other. Her nails scraping against his scalp; her other hand clutching the material of his shirt. His hands tangled in her hair. Her breasts pressed into his chest, her breath heaving against him. Her knee pressed between his, his center pressed into her hip.

He felt his body responding and shifted slightly, knowing she would have already felt it, but not wanting it to lead them too far astray. When she felt his body responding, knowing they'd probably gone too far already, she finally broke the kiss and pulled back ever so slightly. Mac, disappointed, suddenly felt his stomach flutter again as she trailed her own lips up his cheek this time, coming to rest just next to his ear. He could feel her breath, hot, teasing, on the delicate skin of his ear. He could smell the subtle, slightly spicy fragrance of her perfume. She leaned in just a centimeter closer, placing her lips on his earlobe. She wanted so badly to ask him up again, but held her tongue. She knew that he'd say yes this time. And that it would be very wrong. Instead, she whispered in a sultry voice. "Next time, be sure to bring your meds."

A shudder of excitement coursed through his body. His mind conjuring up endless possibilities of where they might go from here if he was freed of the constraints of returning home for his damned medication. She slowly pulled completely away from him and he let out the breath he'd been holding for what seemed to have been the last 10 minutes. "Yes, Ma'am." He whispered in response. And before he did something he knew he'd regret, he backed away, his gaze burning into her, until he swiftly turned and walked down the steps towards the waiting cab. Jo watched him a moment before turning as well, forcing her hand to remain steady as she punched in the entry code to her building. Her heart still racing, she pushed open the door and walked through the lobby without daring even a glance back.

Mac, reaching out to open the door of the waiting cab, was certain he'd never look at those medicine bottles sitting on his kitchen counter in quite the same way again.

~fin~


End file.
